While he could see Sam in his peripheral vision, Keiran refused to look away from his own feet, rather embarrassed to be in a room with him while he was dressed as such – or, more, not-so-dressed. He tried not to appear half as embarrassed as he was, especially when Sam began laughing.
Risking a glance, Keiran lifted his head only long enough to see what Sam was offering before he shook his head, patting his pocket affectionately. “Brought my own,” he slurred with a grin, the splashing in his pocket a pleasant reminder of how much he had left to enjoy before he'd, once again, have to sober up. With that less-than-whole feeling present, 'sobering up' was something he didn't look forward to.
Taking a few steps towards the futon, Keiran sat rather delicately on the corner, still grinning, though now it seemed to be at his own girlish antics. “So that's what you do every night?” he queried, rubbing the back of his head as if he was trying to think out a hard calculus equation. “No wonder you stay in such good shape.”